


them

by WinchesterPooja (chronic_potterphile)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Destiel - Freeform, Episode: s14e16 Don't Go In the Woods, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, PWP, Sleepy Cuddles, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronic_potterphile/pseuds/WinchesterPooja
Summary: What if Cas doesn’t want this—them—anymore?Sometimes, Dean and Cas just need to talk. Sometimes, they need to fuck. They've got to figure out which.





	them

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boy I have wanted to write this since watching that episode and getting a million questions in my head about how come Cas had spoken to Dean so early in the morning--and of course I thought of the naughtiest thing I could think of to explain it.
> 
> Anyway, thank you to my girls, **Sanj/SPNxBookworm** , **Mosh/iamremy** and **Ellen/Lennelle** for standing by me and cheering me on as I wrote this monster.
> 
> All mistakes are mine. Sadly, there was no beta involved here.

**_them_ **

It's been a few days since Dean and Cas talked. Since they  _really_  talked. They have had small conversations and they've spoken over dinner. The last time Dean unloaded to Cas was before Michael left, but something had changed at that time, Something had shifted, because Cas hadn't been the same. Touching him was different. Holding him was different. The date nights were different.

 _They_  were different.

It seems like a lifetime ago that everything felt good. Like it was all okay. Right now, in the dim lights of his room and to the background sounds of Forrest Gump playing on Netflix, Dean thinks of Cas for the umpteenth time that day, and tries not to remember how much he misses his boyfriend.

Jack's death had changed them all. He'd been gone a few hours, maybe a day, but it had altered everything. It had been about losing a child and though they're all fluent in losing people they love, this had been their son, their child, their kid.

Dean now understands the agony of outliving your child.

Cas has been quieter since then, more changed than all of them. A single flame of fear rises in Dean, fuelled by his perpetual insecurities.

What if Cas doesn't want this— _them—_ anymore?

Netflix goes on, the white noise keeping the silence at bay, and Dean remembers him and Cas. He remembers  _them_.

It had all started after Michael left for the first time, but Dean thinks it had been brewing for years now. Dean remembers Cas checking on him that night after they'd found Kaia's dark doppelganger. Remembers Cas coming in and lying with him on the bed, an arm around him, holding him. Remembers turning around to kiss him, and a moment later, their shirts had been off, bodies hot and skin on skin, the longing from years and years making itself apparent.

There was no turning back after that.

Sam knows. Dean told him one morning over coffee. It wasn't surprising to Sam, not really, from how he'd smiled and patted Dean's shoulder, saying, "I'm happy for you."

No one was surprised. Not Mom or Jody or Donna. Maybe Jack was a little surprised, but he was also as excited as any two-year-old could be at getting to know that two of his dads were in love. Dean wonders if he was surprised himself, or if Cas was, but in reality, they probably weren't. It had been a long time coming.

Which is probably why this silence bothers Dean so much. That after all this time, all the longing and waiting, there's a disconnect.

Dean gets up from his bed and walks over to find his laundry hamper, fresh clothes neatly folded, and he looks for a pair of socks to pull on. He ends up choosing his favourite—the "send noods" socks that Sam had gotten him as a prank, which Dean had gone on to actually really like.

He thinks of Sam's struggles. Of all their struggles. Their whole life has been hard and sometimes it feels like it's just getting worse. Maybe Dean should just go talk to Cas, he thinks, throw away the no chick-flick rule. Ask him what's up.

Although, he wonders, will Cas be okay with talking about whatever it is? Is there even anything here, or is Dean just imagining it, brain going into overdrive after being possessed, and then the whole debacle with Jack probably having lost his soul? Is he overthinking this?

There is a knock on his door. Dean looks up, already knowing who it is. "Come in."

The door opens. It's Cas, just like Dean expected it to be.

"Hey," Dean says, hesitant, as he pads across his room on socked feet and picks up his laptop to shut it. The movie can wait, because he and Cas need to talk. He didn't know it would be so soon, but he's kinda decided that he's gotta do it.

Kinda.

So he musters up his fondest smile, and tries again. "Hey, Cas."

Cas smiles back, equally unsure. "Dean."

Dean looks around for his laptop bag but Cas comes in, picks it up from one of the chairs and hands it over.

"Thanks," Dean says, accepting the bag. "Hey, sit down. What's up with you?"

Cas shrugs. "I'm good."

"Uh-huh, sure you are." Dean looks away for a moment, unsure what to do. He folds his legs onto the bed and pulls one sock a little higher up, tugging at the loose thread. He doesn't know where exactly to go from here. The silence is there to swallow them now, and Forrest Gump isn't around to help anymore.

He lifts a hand, thinks of putting it on Cas's shoulder, then hesitates and runs it through his hair instead. Cas is watching him all the while, and Dean's about to try and speak again, but Cas interrupts him.

"Dean, I—" He pauses to bite his lip, then flashes a half-smile, "—we can finish your movie together."

Dean narrows his eyes. "What  _is_  up with you?" he asks again.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Cas promises him, but it sounds feeble. Dean can make out the circles under Cas's eyes, dark shadows in the soft light, and he realises that Cas is so tired that he's starting to make Jimmy look tired too. He doesn't hesitate this time when he reaches a hand for Cas's knee.

"You can talk," he says. "You know that right? You've been messed up since Jack died, and I know the kid's back and we're all worried about him, but you can tell me. I'll listen."

It all comes out of Dean like verbal diarrhoea, like he's begging Cas to communicate with him. Oh, Sam's going to have a field day, he thinks, if he realises that Dean wanted to  _talk_  to someone. But he's desperate. He doesn't want this to go wrong. He can't fuck it up, and he won't let anything come in the way of having Cas, keeping him, and being  _them_.

"Dean." Cas's hand is on his. Dean looks into his eyes, and there's pain there, but only for a moment.

Cas smiles. "Oh, Dean." He leans in for a kiss, hand still covering Dean's, and their noses brush when Dean catches Cas's lips with his own.

It's slow at first. Soft. Dean quickens it, goes on to hold Cas's face and pull him closer, lips working with passion, kissing and biting. Cas returns the favour and holds Dean's lower lip between his, then kisses his chin. Dean grunts, tilts his head back and cups Cas's neck with one hand. The other palm digs into the mattress for support as the sounds of their breaths, fast and desperate, punctuate the still air.

Cas moves lower, folds of sensitive skin between soft lips. Dean shuts his eyes, hisses, tantalised. Cas's hands go down from Dean's back to under his t-shirt, palming his bare skin and running up and down, so Dean can feel goosebumps rise all over.

"Cas," Dean whispers, letting Cas pause briefly to take his t-shirt off. They both work on Cas's tie and shirt, and  _God_ , why does this dude wear so many layers?

Dean waits for Cas to kick his shoes off before getting to his knees and gesturing to his boyfriend to come closer. Cas yields so they're in an embrace again; lets Dean kiss him and run light fingers over his shoulders and back, going lower below, and Dean's satisfied that Cas has goosebumps too.

"Next time," he mutters, kissing Cas again, thumbs rubbing circles on bumpy skin, "we gotta work on getting you into lesser clothes."

"And I thought you liked foreplay," Cas replies, holding Dean's waist. His eyes sparkle with love and something else, and Dean puts a hand on Cas's toned belly, moving down to undo his belt. He hooks fingers into the belt loops to pull Cas forward, then goes to work on the buckle.

"I like foreplay," Dean says, between more kisses, getting the belt off and letting it fall to the floor, the buckle clunking as it hits wood, "but man…" he's working on Cas's slacks now, kisses still brief and vigorous, "it's a pain sometimes… 'cause I want you so bad."

Cas pulls down his pants and gets out of them surprisingly fast. He pushes Dean back against the bed, Dean letting out a chuckle when he hits the pillow, when Cas crawls over on all fours towards Dean. He leans in the corner of Dean's lips, nips at his jaw, then his earlobe.

"Is this the pain you want?" he asks, teeth meeting skin, voice muffled.

Dean hisses. "Yes. Oh God. Cas—"

Cas quietens him with another kiss, tongue sweeping the sides of his mouth. He tugs at Dean's sweatpants and pulls them down—Dean speeds up the process by kicking them off. Then he's lying on the bed again, Cas straddling him as they kiss with increasing rigour, fervent and quick, sloppy and wet; Cas already half-hard and pressing against Dean's stomach.

"Lube," Dean mutters when they surface, "you know where to find it."

Cas nods and dives sideways to retrieve the lube. Dean strips himself of his boxers and socks. He pulls Cas back in by the elastic of his underwear and divests him of them, holding his arms out to Cas to let him close in. Cas yields, lets Dean circle his legs around his waist, and squirts lube into his palm to get a generous quantity onto his fingers.

"Ready?" he asks, and Dean nods. They sneak a quick kiss and Cas goes for Dean with a lubed hand, holding onto his shoulder with the other.

Dean grunts when fingers rim him lightly, slick with lube, teasing him. Cas goes in with one finger and Dean hisses.

"Relax," Cas whispers. He steals a kiss, then gets another finger in. "Oh, you're so hot."

"Oh God," Dean murmurs, legs flexing, heels digging into the dip of Cas's lower back. Sweat builds on his forehead, running down his temples as he gets hard.

"You like that?" Cas asks him, taking his free hand off Dean to run it up and down his own cock. He scissors Dean, touching his prostate, and Dean bucks against him.

"G-Get in me," Dean growls. In reply, a third finger goes in. He jumps.

"Bossy," Cas tells him, and Dean's all over the place, cock hard and leaking precum, his whole body a sweaty, shaking mess.

"Bossy, m-my ass," Dean gasps, damp sheets rustling underneath him as he wiggles, trying to get Cas to do his bidding. "C'mon, man."

Cas flashes him a half-smile, eyes sparkling. He removes his fingers. Dean gasps again and there is a moment, a moment where they're both still, gazes meeting. Dean's heart flutters at the blue in Cas's eyes, his blown pupils and his wet, red lips, just before he goes in, positioning himself, and entering Dean with a moan.

"Shit," Dean whispers, arching a little against the mattress, hands gripping at Cas's back.

"Good?" Cas asks him.

Dean nods, biting his lip almost to the point of drawing blood. Cas pushes in further. "Sh-shit!" Dean gasps again. His toes curl and he's on overdrive. "Fuck."

"You're tight," Cas mutters, then moves, thrusting once, his cock warm and wet inside Dean.

"M-maybe not as tight as you," Dean tells him. "You're the tight-ass here— _fuck_."

"We'll find out, won't we?" Cas asks him, thrusting again.

"Sure we will," Dean growls. "after this I'm gonna— _fuck, fuck_ —" his nails sink into Cas's flesh. Cas goes for Dean's prostate, just a touch, and Dean whines. "Shit, th-that was awesome, shit—"

Cas does it again, and Dean twitches, almost shouting. " _Fuck_ , Cas. You're a-awesome."

"Say that again," says Cas, going faster, and Dean circles his arms around Cas to pull him closer.

"No," he replies, "that was just 'cause you— _fuck_ —" Dean shouts out the word again as Cas wiggles a little bit. "Asshole!"

"Say it," Cas murmurs, continues to pound him, merciless, and Dean's almost shouting with each thrust, unable to contain himself. His jaw drops, neck arching and head pressing into his pillow. He can't stop moaning and grunting, loud enough that if Jack happened to pass by—

"Shit, we got a kid in—" Dean gasps as Cas continues to rock against him— "we got a—"

Cas silences him with a kiss, thrusts, nips Dean's jaw, thrusts again, and it's all too much for Dean—the feel of Cas's lips and hands and him and everything swirling between them—a thousand fireworks, a supernova—Dean's whole goddamn life. It's everything coming to life at once, inside Dean and around him. Like Cas woke him up from a deep, depressing slumber.

"I'm close," he says, unable to stop a small gasp, and another moan. "Cas, I'm close."

"Good," Cas grunts.

Another thrust—Dean moans, as Cas nips at the base of his ear. Once more, and Dean is trying not to shout, just as Cas rests his face on the crook of Dean's neck. Dean can feel him shake and quiver, almost vibrating, stimulated, like he's close too. They're both nearing it. So close. So close…

"God, I'm c-coming," Dean says, voice barely making it out of his throat, unable to contain his thoughts any longer. "C-Cas…"

"All right," Cas says. He thrusts again. "Come for me."

"Shit." Dean's arms tighten around Cas, feeling Cas's forehead, still right there on the crook of his neck.

Cas's muscles are taut under Dean's grip, belly rubbing against Dean's cock and making it all worse. It swells, peaks; until Dean moans loudly and comes all over him and Cas, hot and messy and shuddering all through, feeling tiny ripples in Cas's muscles under his arms.

Cas continues, thrusts weakening as he crescendos. Dean's a melted, weak puddle under him, holding him, nerve cells crackling from orgasming so hard. Cas's breath stutters and he's coming—the next moment, with a shout to match Dean's. He gasps, then sighs, filling Dean, forehead grinding into Dean's skin while he shudders, finishing, hot, wet and heavy.

Cas pulls out a moment later and collapses beside Dean, face damp with sweat and eyelids fluttering, tired. Dean turns to his side to look at Cas. They stay like that a moment, trembling from overstimulation, and Dean wants to tell Cas how surprised he is, that sex can drain Cas too, but he doesn't. He looks at Cas in awe, then rests a hand on his waist to admire him, thinking of how he still can't believe that he has Cas.

After all these years, they're here. And he's so happy.

He hopes Cas is happy, too.

**~o~**

Dean hasn't slept too long when the he feels Cas stir. They'd cleaned up and gotten straight to bed last night, euphoric, but too spent to talk any further. Dean had fallen asleep almost immediately with Cas's arm around him. It had been a dreamless, comfortable slumber, something Dean hadn't experienced in years, and it had been blissful—until Cas moved.

Dean grumbles, opening an eye to look at Cas, who's getting out of bed.

"Where are you off to?" Dean asks him.

"I should go to my room, Dean, Jack might see us, and though he should learn about healthy relationships, I think we should take it slow with him."

"You weren't worried about him hearing us fucking last night," Dean reminds him, "and he knows and doesn't care that we're together. So get back in here."

"Dean—"

"Cas, don't waste my time, man," Dean grumbles, "get in here and shut up."

Cas sighs, his whole frame weighing him down like he's weary. Like he's been weary for a million years. Dean blinks a few times to focus, trying to get the tiredness off of him as Cas fetches his shoes.

"I have to go," Cas says.

"Why?"

"I feel—" Cas hesitates, eyes focussing on a point beyond Dean. "I feel claustrophobic here. Like I'm being cooped up."

Dean takes a deep breath and sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Winchester vacation it is. Sammy and I have been talking about going to this beach—"

"I need to be alone," Cas says, interrupting Dean. "Please. I need a few days. Some space. From… from all of this."

Dean wants to ask him again. Tell him that he's safe. That he can talk to Dean about whatever it is that bothers him. Like the conversation they were going to have last night before they had sex.

God, that was  _good_.

Dean feels a blush creep up his cheeks, a little smile playing on his lips. It might be annoying that Cas doesn't want to talk, but Dean's learned from experience that if space is what Cas wants, he should respect that.

"Sure, Cas," he says. "Of course. We're right here. Me, Sam, and Jack. Mom, too."

Cas smiles at him. "I know. Thank you." He bends over to wear his shoes and Dean watches him as he laces them. When he gets up from the bed Dean reaches a hand to him, grabbing his sleeve.

"Hey."

Cas turns around, questioning, and Dean lets go of him.

"Stay in touch, okay?"

Cas nods, then leans in, kissing Dean briefly. He gathers himself, walking over to the door. "I will call you."

"That'd be awesome."

"Goodbye, Dean." The door opens and Cas is out, shutting it behind him and leaving Dean to silence and questions. One thing is clear, though, Dean thinks, as he gets out of bed too, to go about his day. Nothing is lost between him and Cas. It can't be, because they're a unit. They're Dean and Cas.

They're  _them._ They'll always be  _them._

**Fin**

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love! <3


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